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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26887405">Liability</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_eccentric/pseuds/hopeless_eccentric'>hopeless_eccentric</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>(Free! That's right! Free!) Penumbra Commissions [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Penumbra Podcast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Non-Binary Character, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Identity, Implied/Referenced Torture, Introspection, Nonbinary Juno Steel, Other, Rescue, Self-Hatred, Trans Peter Nureyev, Whump, affirmations and kind support, not whumptober but still whump in october, nureyev's just a chocolate torte of reasons to need a hug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:21:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,865</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26887405</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_eccentric/pseuds/hopeless_eccentric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nureyev didn’t lose well. He didn’t draw the finish line until after the encore, just in case he might have to drag himself from a heist with a broken leg or with a starstruck socialite chasing after him. The curtain never fell until he had the last word. </p><p>However, it was hard to think of things like encores and galas and curtains with his head spinning and vision swimming and the dull, quaking pulse of a nose twice broken overpowering his senses. </p><p>Free (that's right! free!) penumbra commission for an anon on tumblr!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>(Free! That's right! Free!) Penumbra Commissions [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921492</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>195</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Liability</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey all this one is pretty serious for at least the first thousand words or so, so just a heads up for that!! Gets a lot more supportive at the end. Read the content warnings and stay safe i love you all</p><p>Title from Lorde. im gay what did you expect</p><p>Content warnings for torture (it doesn't happen directly but the entire plot revolves around that), self-hatred, nureyev-typical ageism, injury, blood, referenced surgery, head trauma/concussion, death mention, murder mention, betrayal mention, if anyone particularly hates teeth/nail stuff there is mentioned teeth/nail stuff</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter Nureyev had kept his posture straight for three hours and forty two minutes. He would have known the seconds count had he not needed to keel over and spit out the blood congealing at the back of his throat. </p><p>He tried to tell himself it didn’t count, for he righted himself before his interrogator could even wind back their arm for another blow. However, his shoulders sagged in anticipation, and even if the person whose bloodied knuckles sank into his nose didn’t say anything, something sharp and squirming and victorious bloomed in their eyes. Nureyev wasn’t sure exactly how bloodied his face was, but he knew his expression hid nothing of exactly how it felt to lose. </p><p>Nureyev didn’t lose well. He didn’t draw the finish line until after the encore, just in case he might have to drag himself from a heist with a broken leg or with a starstruck socialite chasing after him. The curtain never fell until he had the last word. </p><p>However, it was hard to think of things like encores and galas and curtains with his head spinning and vision swimming and the dull, quaking pulse of a nose twice broken overpowering his senses. </p><p>Peter Nureyev was supposed to keep his posture straight, as was the first rule of thieving. For some reason, his failure to do so throbbed more fervently than the fact that he had lost at all. </p><p>He blinked through swollen eyelids to see his interrogator relenting for the evening. A younger man might have bucked against the chains binding his wrists, but then again, a younger man would never have let his posture falter. Perhaps, a younger man wouldn’t have been captured either. </p><p>The interrogator left with a chuckle that made his blood boil. It rang through that little cinder block cell with all the echo of the slamming, reinforced door. </p><p>Nureyev was left alone with the camera that burned a hole straight through him. He supposed, with no feasible way to escape and no reason for his crew to come after someone useless enough to get caught, he might as well resign himself for the evening. </p><p>He took a deep breath. He squeezed his eyes shut. He let his shoulders fall. Nureyev tried to file away the thoughts that kept him from grasping at escape plans, but it seemed that in the same blow that had wrenched Peter’s composure away, his interrogator had knocked over that mental filing cabinet, leaving years and years of thoughts strewn about the floor. </p><p>That night, Nureyev counted broken ribs instead of sheep. Sleep remained elusive nonetheless. </p><p>He ran his tongue over a painfully bare spot in his mouth and winced at the taste of heady iron lazing its way from the gash. One of those cosmetically sharpened teeth Juno used to love sat somewhere on the floor, cast aside by a knuckle that landed just in the wrong place. Peter tried to pry his mind away from the spot, but his tongue always found its way back. </p><p>The tooth wouldn’t be difficult to take care of, if he ever made it out. He could get a brief procedure done, and then another to file the secondary tooth down to match its twin. </p><p>Nureyev’s brow knit in a silent grimace at the thought of having to get more work done. He’d spent enough time under one knife or another, if only to correct and perfect and deal with one crisis of appearance or another until he had righted himself upon the tightrope where he feared falling more than death. </p><p>Peter could stand to be a corpse, so long as he was an exquisite one. He could stand to be buried in a cold ditch somewhere, so long as his dental work was intact and his nails were done and any trace of gray hair was long since dyed away.</p><p>He couldn’t remember how many days it had been since he dyed his hair. He knew his makeup ran down his face like rivers carving their way through rock. His tooth was on the floor and he hadn’t done his skincare routine since the morning before the heist went wrong and he had found himself in a warehouse, then a cell, then a chair. Nureyev wasn’t sure where his nails went, having squeezed his eyes shut to a point of pain. He was sure, however, at least three were no longer attached to his hand.</p><p>Nureyev supposed he cared less about age than incompetence, though both weighed no lighter than the chain upon his bruised wrists. </p><p>He tried not to think about the crew of the Carte Blanche, but an injured head proved to be an unfriendly one when it came to seeking kind thoughts. Nureyev was sure Vespa would crow, for this had to have been the betrayal she anticipated. He supposed, in one way or another, it was, though not of his own choice. His own uselessness, rather than any cunning or maliciousness, had undermined the crew. They merely had the misfortune of missing it before it struck. </p><p>If he had to guess, in whatever addled state he was guessing, the crew would elect to leave him behind. Dead weight was dangerous on a vessel that needed to travel fast, even if certain crew members wanted to keep him around.</p><p>He hoped Juno might see that he deserved someone who could pull their own weight. Peter wished they might have met as younger people, if only to spend a few more years together before Nureyev’s prime faded, his own age seizing him by the neck as his options and talents and charms fizzled away one by one.</p><p>An engine, not unlike that of the Ruby 7, buzzed somewhere near. Nureyev felt his lips, split and battered and bloodied, drag themselves into a mirthless smile. </p><p>Of course they would return, if only for the reason one would shoot an injured horse. Even if he had yet to let any valuable information bleed from between his teeth, he was a ticking time bomb. A barrier had been broken when his posture first slipped. Perhaps it would be in their best interests to send an envoy to put a laser between his eyes. </p><p>Nureyev only hoped they didn’t send Juno down to do it.</p><p>He took his first breath of fresh air when he heard the camera boring into the back of his head die, hanging its head as it powered down. Nureyev could only imagine that dark, black eye staring blankly into the concrete floor. Perhaps the crew had thought to do him that one small kindness before killing him. </p><p>With nothing better to do, Nureyev counted the footsteps as they crashed down the hallway. There were at least two sets, one of which had to be Jet from the length of the stride. He prayed the other was Vespa, though he knew she would never sprint at such a volume, nor would she spit and cuss at Jet for walking too slow, even if it meant trading stealth for speed. </p><p>Peter wondered if it would be better to squeeze his eyes shut or attempt one last look at Juno, though the dagger of pain in his head that only worsened with the introduction of light from the hall made the decision for him. </p><p>He winced away from the door when it opened, trying and failing to hide his face against the sputtering glow from the hall when he heard Juno’s footsteps clatter to a halt mere feet away. </p><p>“He is breathing,” Jet said, if only to break the silence. </p><p>“Are you sure?” Juno choked out. </p><p>Nureyev managed a nod, though his head and neck protested. </p><p>“Ransom, I—“ Juno started, the words spilling from his lips the moment he saw some kind of consciousness. </p><p>“Just finish it already,” Nureyev croaked. </p><p>He didn’t remember his voice going raw, nor did it seem he had registered the pain in his throat until he attempted something that wasn’t a scream. Nureyev had done his best to forget that gaping wound in his pride. He suspected the head trauma had helped him in that matter. </p><p>“We’re going to get you out of here, alright?” Juno continued, sounding closer than before. </p><p>When Nureyev raised his head, they were mere inches apart, Juno’s hand hovering above his face as if trying to find a spot uninjured enough to run a thumb over. Peter managed a grim smile. Affection now would be like a bandage on a blaster burn. </p><p>“Ransom?” Juno pressed after a long, swaying moment passed without Nureyev’s response. </p><p>Peter blinked.</p><p>“What did you say?” </p><p>“I said we’re gonna get you out of here,” Juno repeated. </p><p>Nureyev managed a nod, the words only sinking in when he felt the chains relax around his wrists and the blood returning to hands that had, without his realization, been clenched for the last several minutes. He tried to shake the feeling back into them, wincing against every joint and fractured bone that creaked and cracked and complained when he attempted to stand. </p><p>When one leg buckled, he barely had time to catch his arms around Juno’s neck. However, Juno seized him around the waist before he could do little more than wince. </p><p>Nureyev cursed himself. He’d shown enough pain for one day. He didn’t need to continue the pattern in front of his crew. </p><p>“I’m fine,” he protested through gritted teeth. </p><p>“You are hardly standing,” Jet pointed out. </p><p>“Thank you,” Nureyev hissed. “I hadn’t noticed.” </p><p>“I will carry you, if you are comfortable with—“</p><p>Juno cut him off with a shake of his head. </p><p>“I’ll get him,” Juno said, words resolute. </p><p>Nureyev wanted to protest, but found himself incapable of doing much more than sagging into Juno’s arms, head on his shoulder and eyes squeezing shut and aching fingers loose in their grasp around the back of his neck. </p><p>“I’ve got you,” Juno murmured. His voice was muffled as he pressed a kiss to the top of Nureyev’s head.</p><p>“You came back for me,” Peter heard himself smile as Juno began his hurried pacing back towards the exit. </p><p>“Of course we did.”</p><p>“Why?” </p><p>“Honey,” Juno breathed. His voice shook, though Nureyev couldn’t see if it was with a consoling laugh or the exertion of jogging towards the exit. </p><p>“Why did you come back?” Nureyev pressed. </p><p>“We don’t leave family behind, Nureyev,” Juno murmured, quiet enough that the moment might be theirs and theirs alone. </p><p>Nureyev was fairly sure he blacked out somewhere between the Ruby 7 and the infirmary, for he awoke to the cotton-stuffed feeling of painkillers. </p><p>He blinked against the dim lights of the infirmary, eyes watery, though less swollen. His head didn’t spin anymore, but it still seemed to wobble as he stretched his legs and fingers and shoulders and neck, checking to see what had been fixed and what remained damaged. </p><p>He couldn’t help a grin at the feeling of a new and newly sharpened tooth aching against his gumline. </p><p>“Morning,” Juno yawned from a nearby chair, grimacing at an audible crack when he sat up straight. </p><p>Only after a slight brush did Nureyev realize he woke Juno by shifting their interconnected hands. With half of his hand bandaged and the two remaining nails chipped half to death, Juno’s touch held all the cautiousness of one holding a baby bird. When Nureyev slid their fingers together and squeezed, he seemed to relax some. </p><p>“How are you feeling?” Juno continued before Nureyev could find words to say. </p><p>“Bad, Juno,” he said, albeit with a smile. </p><p>Juno rolled his eyes. </p><p>“How’s your—“ Juno broke off to furrow his brow. “Uh, everything?” </p><p>“Far better than when you found me, I assure you,” Nureyev sighed. </p><p>Juno bit his lip, as if holding back some question, beating its wings against the inside of his mouth like a bird trapped in a too-small cage. </p><p>“How much do you remember?” He asked instead. </p><p>“An unfortunate amount, I’ll admit,” Peter returned, laying his other hand atop Juno’s just for something painless to hold onto. </p><p>“Do you remember what you asked me?” </p><p>Nureyev winced. </p><p>“I’m sure whatever the question, it was rather embarrassing,” he grimaced. “I’m no doctor, but I’m sure the amount of blunt head trauma I took didn’t make me any more eloquent.” </p><p>Juno leaned across the bed’s railing to press a kiss atop an unbandaged part of Nureyev’s forehead. </p><p>“Can I sit with you?” </p><p>“I don’t think I’d ever deny you such an opportunity,” Nureyev smiled, though it faded in the effort of moving himself to the side. </p><p>Juno seemed to notice his faltering, and when he too found his place in the bed, wrapped his arms around Nureyev in a silent apology. </p><p>“There’s no need to hold me, my love,” Nureyev tried to chuckle. “I know you much prefer the other way around.” </p><p>“You were tortured,” Juno pointed out. </p><p>“That doesn’t change the fact that you prefer to be the little spoon,” Nureyev mused. </p><p>Juno pulled Nureyev a little closer, bearing a victorious smirk when Peter couldn’t help but lean in as well. Nureyev huffed when he saw the look, though he certainly wasn’t upset when that seemed to earn him a kiss on the top of his head. </p><p>When a comfortable silence stretched into the realm of an uncomfortable one, Nureyev sighed, chin on Juno’s chest and eyes lazing along every scar he wore across his face like a dark, teardrop gemstone set amidst a crown. It was easier to focus on his physical traits that it was his expression, Nureyev decided. He took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and kept his gaze steady on the scar across Juno’s nose as he spoke. </p><p>“I assume you meant to ask why I suggested the crew might not go after me,” he said, words tiptoeing around one another like a rabbit that had memorized a safe path through a minefield. </p><p>“Yeah, about that,” Juno started. “I mean, this would all sound better coming from Buddy than me, but as much as I wanna disagree with her, she’s right when she calls us all a family. I know we’ve had our arguments—“</p><p>“And stabbings,” Nureyev noted.</p><p>“Shush,” Juno pressed on. “Vespa came up with most of the plan to get you out.”</p><p>“And she also stabbed you,” Nureyev continued, though his voice betrayed his surprise.</p><p>“Mhm,” Juno continued, ignoring him. “I’m not gonna psychoanalyze you or anything, but just because you made a mistake on a heist doesn’t mean you’re not worth going after at the end of the day. You’re not ‘losing your touch,’ or whatever you call it.”</p><p>“I never made mistakes like this. I don’t make mistakes like this,” Nureyev retorted, though Juno’s raised eyebrow put a period at the end of his prepared tangent. </p><p>“Look, did you plan to get arrested in my apartment on the Grimm’s mask case?” </p><p>“I—“</p><p>“Hell, when you were planning that one out, did you even mean to meet me?” Juno continued.</p><p>Nureyev opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed Juno couldn’t be stopped. He was happy to allow it, for stringing together words in his state felt like catching fish by hand. </p><p>“If Cass hadn’t shown up during the heist, you wouldn’t have ever needed a reason to go in the next day,” Juno continued. “There wouldn’t be a Rex Glass, and I’d get stuck on the case with a real asshole in a suit and sunglasses.”</p><p>Peter felt himself smile. </p><p>“Who else would have stolen your key, detective?” He chuckled. </p><p>“Nobody. That’s my point,” Juno replied. “What I’m really saying is that nobody’s gonna crucify you because you screwed up. We wouldn’t have gone after you if we didn’t want you back.”</p><p>“Why is it that you only present me with well-worded, yet arguable points when I’m too injured to fight back?” Nureyev huffed, though a smile played on his lips. “You brute.”</p><p>“To practice for when you’re awake,” Juno snorted. </p><p>“Touché,” Nureyev sighed, though his smile seemed too potent to kill. </p><p>“God, that new tooth’s sharp,” Juno sputtered out upon the sight. “I mean—you just look nice, that’s all. You always look nice, you just look extra nice with—“</p><p>“I love you,” Nureyev cut him off before he could trip and fall over his own words. </p><p>“I love you too,” Juno choked. </p><p>Peter adjusted once more, wrapping his arms a little tighter and shifting some pressure off of his aching side until anything that hurt wasn’t hurt any worse and it felt as if he would need to be pried off of his partner with industrial equipment. Thankfully, Juno didn’t seem to mind, merely carding his fingers through his hair and murmuring sweet nothings. </p><p>Nureyev didn’t reply, merely forcing himself to believe every compliment and adoration until one in particular caught his attention. </p><p>“I’m so glad you’re home,” Juno breathed.</p><p>“Home, hm?”</p><p>Juno’s mouth fell agape as he realized his slip of the tongue, though after a moment, his face fixed itself into a smile and his hands resumed their gentle path across the crown of Nureyev’s head. </p><p>“Yeah. Home.” </p><p>Even if he had been conscious enough to do so, Nureyev couldn’t argue with that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yahoo!! </p><p>Thank you all so much for reading!! Make sure to SMASH that kudos button and leave a comment down below or i'll hug you REAL hard</p><p>Find me on tumblr @hopeless-eccentric or on twitter @withane22 !!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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